


Not Way Over in a Bucket Seat

by orphan_account



Series: Drabbles [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't sure what cruel twist of fate it is that makes him stuck between Derek and Jackson and then stuck in a <i>hotel room</i> with Jackson, but Stiles doesn't know whether to thank the twist or push it off a cliff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Way Over in a Bucket Seat

**Author's Note:**

> lyssissherlocked requested “Stackson, the boys share a bus seat and/or hotel room on senior field trip.”
> 
> Which…
> 
> This isn’t exactly that. But they share a seat and they share a room, so. Close enough?

“I don’t see why we couldn’t just ask Melissa if we could borrow the van.”

Derek snarls in his general direction, more occupied with figuring out which way the map is supposed to be held. “That would’ve been rude.”

Stiles snorts. “Dude! Scott is her  _son_ , and Scott is going with us on this road trip. She would’ve cried out of  _joy_  that her baby boy is growing up!” Stiles exclaims, finally snatching the map from Derek’s claws and holding it correctly. “Whatever, too late now,” now that they’re three towns north of Beacon Hills, anyways.

Stiles settles but can’t get comfortable. He still isn’t sure why they couldn’t use his Jeep and the Camaro—the pack isn’t  _that_ big and shouldn’t have packed  _that_ much. But, whatever the seven of them had packed was enough to fill up the beater pick up truck Peter had purchased that became a ‘fixer upper’ never fixed. And Scott apparently promised Isaac, his  _boyfriend_ , that Erica and Boyd could slum it with them—and never will Scott being bisexual not be weird. Not because it’s wrong—Stiles ricochets between each end of the sexual spectrum on a daily basis—but because it’s Scott and Stiles would simply prefer to think of him as an asexual rock-brother.

“Stilinski, move your fucking elbow.”

Stiles groans internally, because he’s reminded all too clearly why he was pissed about being lumped in the truck with Derek— _Jackson_. Jackson, who’s in nothing but baggy cargo shorts and a wife beater (Stiles often wonders if being a werewolf also means you inherit your Alpha’s god awful fashion sense, and wonders how long until it affects him.) and just as sour-faced as Derek to his left.

Stiles shakes out the crinkles in the map, and points at the labeled spot. “The closest one coming up.” He leans to Derek who nods and picks up the speed. When Jackson fiddles with the music until something really awful and grating is filling the small cabin of the truck, Stiles sinks lower in the seat and wonders if he could just melt away into nothing rather than endure the next two weeks.

)

Stiles snorts awake to see Derek twitching with too much caffeine in his system, Scott’s taillights blinding him, and Jackson drooling on his shoulder. The map is crunched in his hand, so he flattens it out again before shoving Jackson off him with a hiss of “dude, gross.”

)

Derek doesn’t let anyone else drive, so the only variety they get is for Jackson and Stiles to switch between the middle seat and the window seat. And Jackson apparently needs the window seat or else he’ll get car sick, and Stiles makes an off-handed comment about dogs sticking their heads out the windows and finds his head slammed into the dashboard not only once but twice.

)

“Stiles, stay here.”

“Am I in trouble or something?”

“Jackson’s too pretty to be left alone.”

Stiles looks to his right and agrees—sleeping Jackson, especially. Soft features and mussed hair and slightly parted lips and  _hey_  isn’t that scratch on the dash just  _fascinating_.

)

As soon as they reach an area where they’re only option is to get a few hotel rooms, Stiles demands to bunk with Scott and Isaac and Derek lets him. Barely.

“Dude I think being trapped in small spaces with Jackson for so long has made me go crazy.”

Stiles feels he’s justified in being offended when Isaac looks at Scott and says “Finally.” Before motioning Scott to the shower for things Stiles definitely doesn’t want to hear.

Which is why, despite wanting to bunk with Scott and Isaac, Stiles takes his two suitcases and hobbles back to Jackson’s room—Derek opted to stay with the betas and keep an eye on them.

“That quick, huh?”

“I hate them.” Stiles agrees, throwing his suitcases onto and beside the side of the bed that’s unclaimed. Jackson leans against the wall, watching as Stiles strips down to his boxers. “Uh, dude, awkward.”

“Not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

Stiles makes a flabbergasted noise and Jackson continues, smug.

“In the locker room.”

Because, oh yeah. Right. Lacrosse. Stiles flips him the bird and tries to tamp down how cool it would’ve been if Jackson had peeped on him a time or two.

)

Stiles doesn’t have to open his eyes to know he’s wrapped around Jackson like an octopus, morning wood pressing into Jackson’s thigh, and Jackson’s own half hard cock against his hip.

Jackson growls in his ear, using his  _Alpha_  voice that Derek says he’s shouldn’t use (“ _I’m_  the alpha now!” Derek always whines.) “Stilinski, either you get the fuck off me, or you take off both our pants and fucking  _touch me_.”

Stiles gulped nervously. “I’ll take Option B for five hundred?”

Jackson snarled and pulled Stiles in for a bruising kiss.

)

Stiles doesn’t mind enduring Jackson’s bitchy attitude, the way he demands too much and only gives the best noises and how his fingers seems hesitant to touch Stiles back (that is, until Stiles is buried to the proverbial hilt inside him). Stiles doesn’t mind it being so hideously awkward, since it’s a first time and that’s how they should be—but also because Scott walks in trying to apologize for the night prior and instead gets a nice up close and personal view of Jackson’s ‘oh’ face.

(And shortly after, Stiles’ ‘oh’ face as well.)


End file.
